


Father With Children

by AssassinOfRome



Series: You Hold My Dreams, Kid [1]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn, Legally Blonde - Hach/O'Keefe/Benjamin
Genre: But also love and fluff later on, Crossover, Emmett is Marvin and Trina's son, Family Drama, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Marvin's Giddy Seizures, Other, Recovering from dark times, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Emmett Forrest, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2020-05-13 17:57:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19256272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssassinOfRome/pseuds/AssassinOfRome
Summary: “Jason? What are you still doing up?” Emmett asked, beginning to pace down the corridor. Another student walked past with a pile of laundry, scowling at him. He smiled as apologetically as he could.“You need to come home.”“What?” Emmett froze, tucking himself into a corner.“You need to come home.” Jason insisted, but he didn’t sound cross. Instead his voice sounded crackly, and it took Emmett a moment to realise he was trying not to cry.“Slow down. Jason, I need you to slow down.” Emmett bent slightly, hunching over as if that could somehow help him slip down through the phone and towards Jason.“Dad hit Mom.”“… he what?”Jason is traumatised by the events of Marvin Hits Trina, and calls the only person capable of putting his family back together: his big brother Emmett.Set after Marvin Hits Trina and Chip On My Shoulder respectively.





	1. Hear Our Call

_EMMETT ___

__When he woke up that morning, Emmett Forrest had no intention of talking to, looking at, or even thinking about his father.  
It had been nearly seven years since he’d laid eyes on the man, as they sat together shivering in JFK airport while his mother had taken Jason to the bathroom. The early morning had made Marvin even grumpier than usual, and his glowers were only interrupted by complaints about the quality of the coffee. Emmett had looked at the floor and tried not to pay any attention. _ _

__In front of him sat a brand-new shining suitcase, filled with all his worldly possessions. He was both surprised at how much and how little space his life took up; its weight was painful to drag behind him but it seems ridiculous to contain an entire childhood into a suitcase, a backpack and a satchel. His mother had bought that last one for him when he’d received his place at Harvard. One step closer to becoming a lawyer, she’d said with a smile as she kissed his cheek._ _

__And one step further away from New York._ _

__“Don’t fuck this up.” His father had growled suddenly, looking up from another bitter mouthful of espresso. Emmett had glanced at him as he scrubbed a hand over his face, searching for the classic signs of his father’s rage. There were no throbbing veins or red flush, but Emmett didn’t relax. Instead he’d started fiddling with a loose thread on the cuff of his jumper._ _

__“I won’t.”_ _

__“You better not.” His father had snapped. Emmett had pulled on the thread harder, winding it around his fingers hard enough to dig into the skin. “This isn’t like high school where you can just ghost it and still get top grades. This is Harvard-“_ _

__“I won’t fail.”_ _

__“And none of this boy shit, Aviva. I’m serious. I thought that you’d have grown out of it by now but-“ Emmett had intended to weather this conversation with deep breaths and practiced control, but his father’s ignorance had made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He’d pulled again – hard enough for the thread to snap._ _

__“My name is Emmett. I applied to college as Emmett. I am going to live as Emmett.” Even as he’d kept his tone measured, Emmett had seen his father’s face reddening. He was getting ready to bolt when his mother had approached with Jason in tow. He’d looked a lot more comfortable than he had in the car, having wriggled and fought against the booster seat for the entire drive. It had been a ridiculously early morning for them all, but especially for the little toddler. His pouty face had made Emmett’s stomach twist with guilt, and instead he’d looked up at his mother, who was checking her watch._ _

__“It’s nearly time, sweetheart. Want me to help you carry all this?”_ _

__“I’ll be fine, Mom.” He’d stood, and slipped the backpack onto his shoulders. His arms had strained with the added weight of the sports bag, and he’d wondered if he really needed quite so many books. But the thought of what might happen to them if he left them behind – whether they be scribbled on or thrown about – made him tighten his hold._ _

__“Are you sure you want to do this, Emmett?” His mother had asked, giving his arm a squeeze. Emmett had felt her hand shaking even through his jacket. “It’s not too late, we can always call and-“_ _

__“I want this, Mom.” He had nodded, mostly to himself. Her responding forced smile had been hard to look at, so he’d glanced between that, his father’s surly pout and Jason’s matching scowl. “I need to do this.”_ _

__“Yes. Yes you do.” She’d smiled, and patted his cheek gently. “Well, no sense in standing around catching cold. Jason, give your brother a hug and say bye bye.” Emmett had dropped to a squat and spread his arms out, ready for Jason to leap in. But the toddler had dived behind his mother’s skirt, shaking his head._ _

__“Don’t worry – I’ll be back before you know I’ve gone.” Emmett had spoken softly, but Jason moved no closer. Emmett had let his arms fall, hands brushing against the floor. “Are you not going to hug me, Jace?”_ _

__“No! Bite me, bitch.” Jason had spat, his glare deepening as their mother gasped and their father had tried to stifle a smirk. Emmett had blinked and tried to swallow around the lump in his throat._ _

__“Kids, eh?” He’d laughed weakly and turned instead to his father. “Dad?”_ _

__“Look after yourself. Work hard. Don’t do anything stupid.”_ _

__“I won’t.” They stood awkwardly for a moment, before his father had reached out and pulled him into an awkward half hug, patting his shoulder and pulling away quickly. If there had been tears in his father’s eyes, Emmett hadn’t paid it much mind. Instead, he’d turned to his mother, who was smiling as brightly as she could. Their hug had been much more natural, but Emmett had been able to feel the tension in his mother’s shoulders as she’d whispered in his ear._ _

__“I’m sorry about them.” Her voice had started to crack, so Emmett had stroked a gentle hand down her back._ _

__“Don’t be.”_ _

__“Stay safe. Call me if you need anything. And if you need to come home, that’s-“_ _

__“Not going to happen.” He’d smiled, and pressed a kiss against her cheek. “Love you, Mom.”_ _

__“Love you too, Em.” She’d straightened her spine, and gave his upper arms a little rub, before stepping away. Emmett had taken one last look at them all, stood together like pieces from three different jigsaw puzzles. His mother, usual brightness dampened by her tears. His father, clenching his jaw very hard and trying to look anywhere else. And his baby brother, scowling at the floor and looking ready to stamp his feet into a tantrum._ _

__Before any of them could break, Emmett turned away, dragging his suitcase as quickly as he could. His pulse was thudding so hard in his ears that he didn’t hear his mother calling until she was steps away from him. He’d only been alerted by his father’s groans of despair, and when he’d turned, he saw his father cringing at the woman darting through the crowds._ _

__“Emmett!” His mother, running awkwardly in her blocky heels, had waved her arms wildly, something shimmering in her hand. Emmett could still remember the feeling of her fingers pressing against his. “Wait! Take this!”_ _

__“Trina, are you serious?” Marvin had moaned, rubbing his cheeks and glancing around fearfully. “No wonder he’s a –“_ _

__But Emmett had ignored him, looking down at the necklace that had now come to rest in his palm. It was a delicate silver chain, very simple really, with a small pendant on the end. Turning it over, he could see it was the Star of David his mother had worn all his life._ _

__“Mama-“ The lump in his throat had swelled and he could barely speak, especially as his mother raised the pendant to her lips, kissing it softly._ _

__“Here – now you’ve always got one of Mama’s kisses with you.” She’d given him a watery smile, looping the chain around his neck and clasping it surely. Her hands, now steady, had come to rest on his shoulders, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Now don’t you forget about us, young man.”_ _

__“I won’t, Mama.” Suddenly it was hard to speak. “I love you.”_ _

__“Go on, baby. You’re going to miss your flight.” For a moment, she’d rested her forehead gently against his, before letting him go. He had paused, watching her and the rest of his family disappearing into tiny blobs, halted only by another commuter slamming into his shoulder and knocking his bag down. Then he had turned and set off for his new life, fingers tugging on his necklace every step of the way._ _

__Emmett had even been fiddling with the necklace when his phone started to ring. Its jaunty little tune had rang out into the silence in Elle’s room; she’d been finishing up her revision for a big exam the next day and he’d been keeping her company, marking the third load of Callahan’s papers that week. His workload as a TA had been gradually swelling over the year and so he’d been a little snappier than usual as he turned to his companion._ _

__“Elle turn off your-“ He’d started to sigh, but she looked up from her notes and shook her head holding up her sparkly silent phone._ _

__“It’s not mine.”_ _

__“Oh. Oh!” He blushed and crammed his hand into his pocket, pulling out his battered cellphone. He was surprised it could even still ring, considering its age and how infrequently he used it. Outside of Elle’s texts, the only real purpose it served was as a vessel for endless Tetris games during his longer case-based commutes. But now its ringing had grown more insistent._ _

__“Aha! Not so perfect now are we, Mr-“ Elle had smirked knowingly, but as soon as he scanned the caller ID, Emmett had stopped listening. Instead, he felt his stomach sinking, even as he pushed himself out of the chair._ _

__“I need to take this.” He would have bolted from the room, but Elle sat up, gently touching his elbow._ _

__“Are you okay?” She frowned up at him, nervous. “You’re kind of pale.”_ _

__“Yeah, I’m fine.” He tried to smile, but it wouldn’t stick. The phone continued to ring, and he shook it lightly. “Sorry about this.”_ _

__Elle’s expression hadn’t quite settled by the time he left the room, but Emmett’s attention focused entirely on his phone. Flipping the screen up, he pressed the phone to his ear and listened attentively. Sure enough, there were quiet little breaths on the other side of the line._ _

__“Jason? What are you still doing up?” He asked, beginning to pace down the corridor. Another student walked past with a pile of laundry, scowling at him. He smiled as apologetically as he could._ _

__“You need to come home.”_ _

__“What?” Emmett froze, tucking himself into a corner._ _

__“You need to come home.” Jason insisted, but he didn’t sound cross. Instead his voice sounded crackly, and it took Emmett a moment to realise he was trying not to cry. “DadcameoverandhewasreallyangryatMomandMendelbecausethey’regettingmarriedandthen-“_ _

__“Slow down. Jason, I need you to slow down.” Emmett bent slightly, hunching over as if that could somehow help him slip down through the phone and towards Jason._ _

__“Dad hit Mom.”_ _

__“… he what?” Emmett had never believed in the idea of blood running cold, but as he processed what Jason had said, it felt like ice had seeped into his veins. His body suddenly felt twice as heavy and his vision faded into one large black blur._ _

__“I don’t think he meant it but-“ Jason sobbed and Emmett felt his knees quiver. “He slapped Mom. Hard.”_ _

__“Is he still there?” When Jason didn’t reply, Emmett felt his pulse quickening. Where there had been ice, molten iron began to churn. “Jason, are you safe?”_ _

__“Mendel threw him out. Dad said he was sorry but – Mom won’t stop crying.”_ _

__“Okay, okay.” Emmett ran his hand through his hair and tried to keep steady. The last thing Jason needed was another upset voice in his ear. “Jason, I’m on my way, okay? I’ll book the next flight and I’ll – I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay buddy?”_ _

__“Okay.” Jason’s voice was soft, barely sounding like he’d spoken at all. “Be… be quick, Em. I don’t- we need you.”_ _

__“Love you Jas-“ But before he could finish, his brother had hung up, and Emmett was alone. He blinked a few times, head spinning. The trembling in his legs worsened and he slumped against the wall, sliding down with a gentle bump. He wasn’t quite sure how long he had been sitting there for, but a little while later, Elle poked her head out of the door, wrapped up in a bright pink dressing gown._ _

__“Emmett? Is everything okay?”_ _

__“Yes. No. I don’t know.” He looked up at her, and that small action was enough to bring tears into his eyes. “Elle, I-“_ _

__“Hey hey hey.” Elle quickly shut the door behind her and knelt down next to him. Usually she wouldn’t be caught dead in public without her makeup, and the thought of her forsaking that for him was the last straw. He burst into tears, burying his face into his knees as his shoulders shook. Elle’s hand was there in a heartbeat, rubbing gentle circles._ _

__“What’s brought on this?”_ _

__“I’m sorry I just-“ He gasped as soon as he could take a full breath, and started scrubbing at his eyes with his sleeve. Really, what was he playing at? Elle must have thought he was being so weak, crying like a baby in the middle of the corridor. “Being stupid, I shouldn’t-“_ _

__“Take a deep breath for me, honey.” Elle guided him through a few breaths, and squeezed his shoulders lightly. “What’s going on?”_ _

__“My brother called and… my dad he…” Emmett dropped his voice to a whisper, cheeks burning. “He hit my mom.”_ _

__“Oh my God.” Elle rocked backwards, eyes widening. She pulled her hands away as if burned, and Emmett shivered. “Is she okay?”_ _

__“She’s not badly hurt but she’s upset and-“ Emmett paused, and swallowed, forcing himself to his feet. He set his hands on his hips and tried to take a few full breaths. “I need to go home. I need to go to the airport.”_ _

__“Aren’t you from Boston?” Elle frowned innocently, getting up too. Emmett laughed bitterly; he would have cried, but he wasn’t sure if he had anything left._ _

__“Born here, but my family live in New York now.” He glanced down and then stopped, looking at her properly for the first time. She was shivering and her arms were covered in little pink scrawls from where she’d made emergency notes. “Oh God Elle, I’m so sorry. I ruined study night and you’ve got your exam and-“_ _

__“Hush.” She reached up and cradled his cheek, and Emmett leaned into the warm touch. He bit his lip to stop it from trembling. “What do you need? Want me to take you to the airport?”_ _

__“Yes – yes please. I just need to pack a few things and-“ Emmett glanced at the dorm room door and felt a wave of hopelessness wash over him. What could he pack that would be of any use? No book, no jacket, no piece of paper would be able to fix this._ _

__“Emmett, look at me.” Elle gently tilted his face back towards her, and pulled him into a tight hug. Emmett could feel her nose pressing into his shoulder. “It’s going to be alright, okay? Everything will be alright.”_ _

__As he looped his arms around her waist and hugged back, Emmett wished he could believe her._ _

__*_ _

_ELLE ___

____Emmett had always been a pretty quiet guy, but Elle had never seen him so silent._ _ _ _

____He’d not said a word since they’d left Harvard, other than to give her directions to his apartment. She’d never visited him at home before, and as she drove down the shady street, she became increasingly aware why. The further they travelled into Emmett’s neighbourhood, the dirtier and more dangerous it seemed. Eventually, Emmett told her to pull outside a dilapidated apartment block with smashed windows and trash piling up outside._ _ _ _

____“Lock your doors, turn off your lights and don’t make any noise until I get back. If someone tries to get in, drive as fast as you can and don’t stop until you’re out of here.” Elle had laughed, praying that he was joking but his pale serious face had quickly put an end to that. Luckily, he’d only taken a few minutes to grab his backpack, but even the short time she spent sat alone made her shudder._ _ _ _

____Still, she couldn’t help but feel her curiosity growing as they drove away and towards the airport. Emmett was flipping through his passport, and she nodded towards it._ _ _ _

____“So if your family are in New York, what are you still doing down here? I mean, it’s not like you’re still in law school, and there’s plenty of attorney jobs in New York.” She asked gently, but it was still enough to make him flinch._ _ _ _

____“The further I can get from my dad, the better.” He said darkly, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. “And besides, I like it here. It’s home.” He paused, and turned to her. “I didn’t lie to you Elle, just so you know.”_ _ _ _

____“I didn’t think you did.”_ _ _ _

____“I did grow up in Roxbury, but my parents moved to New York when my dad got a better job. Jason was born a few months later.”_ _ _ _

____“And what about the series of bums?” Elle asked, unable to beat down her curiosity. “I always assumed your mom had a lot of boyfriends but if your dad’s still around-“_ _ _ _

____“It wasn’t my mom’s boyfriends who were the problem.” Emmett growled and Elle accidentally hit the brakes, lurching them both forward. When she managed to right herself, she saw that Emmett was tearful again, but he tried to hide it behind his hand._ _ _ _

____“Em?”_ _ _ _

____“My dad’s a fag, okay?” He spat, and Elle bristled reflexively. “My dad’s a fucking queer and he left my mom for some guy he found in a bar. Then he kept splitting up with him and getting back with my mom and then splitting up again until they finally divorced when I was fifteen. I came out here when I was sixteen to go to college and never looked back. Until now.”_ _ _ _

____“You went to college at sixteen?”_ _ _ _

____“That’s what you took from that?!” He’d yelped, surprising himself. There was a beat of silence and he swallowed, hunching up small. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I- my dad may be an asshole but that doesn’t give me any excuse to be homophobic.” Elle watched as his cheeks reddened, stained with shame. “And I certainly shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”  
“I get it.” She wanted to hug him again, but settled for reaching out and patting his knee. “Not the homophobia bit but… I get what it’s like to be so angry at someone you think you’re going to explode.” _ _ _ _

____“How did you fix it?” His pleading broke her heart and she moved her hand to squeeze his._ _ _ _

____“I met you, silly.” Before she could elaborate, they had reached the airport, and there was a grand hurry of grabbing everything and running through the airport. Luckily the desk had been very quiet, only one woman sat filing her nails. Emmett had been panting by the time he’d reached the desk._ _ _ _

____“I need to get on the next flight to New York. Please.” He cringed at his own rudeness. “Sorry, I’m just-“_ _ _ _

____“It’s okay, sweetie – had worse.” The woman smiled, and clicked a few times. “You’re in luck, honey. There’s a few seats left in the 9pm flight. Economy alright?”_ _ _ _

____“Yes! Yes please, economy.” Emmett had nodded frantically, and she could see him doing calculations in his head._ _ _ _

____“Just you or-“_ _ _ _

____“Just him.” She’d smiled as politely as she could muster, resisting the urge to tap her feet. “How much will that cost?”_ _ _ _

____“That’ll be $591, honey.”_ _ _ _

____“Five hundred-“ Emmett didn’t have much colour left in his cheeks but what remained quickly drained away. Elle frowned, remembering the last time she’d seen Emmett buy groceries. He’d been paying with nickels and dimes – tips from his job moonlighting as a barman. Even with his scrimping, he’d been almost five dollars short, and his expression had been identical; wounded and embarrassed, yet also desperately sad. Elle had no qualms in reaching into her own purse and pulling out her American Express._ _ _ _

____“Put it on this card please.”_ _ _ _

____“Elle, no-“ Emmett had cried out, but Elle signalled to the woman to ignore him, and tapped her card on the reader._ _ _ _

____“Emmett, let me do this for you.” They’d stared at each other for a few seconds before Emmett turned back to the desk. “Are we OK to go?” The woman had nodded, and Elle had thanked her, before dragging Emmett over to departures. He still looked stunned, blinking down at her as he apologised._ _ _ _

____“I’ll pay you back, I promise. I just-“_ _ _ _

____“Don’t worry about it. And don’t worry about work. I’ll smooth things over with Callahan; you just focus on looking after your family, okay?” Emmett had scrunched up small, eyes closed tight as if trying to wish himself away. She gently tapped his cheek. “Emmett, look at me.” His eyes opened, and she could see how frightened he was. “You need anything – you call, okay? I’ll be right there.” When he nodded, she smiled, and looked down at her watch. He’d have about thirty minutes to wait before the flight, and would be home before midnight. “Now do you want me to stay? I can-“_ _ _ _

____“No, you head off if you need to.” He glanced at the lounge clock and swore. “Oh God, your exam! Elle, you need to sleep and-“_ _ _ _

____“Bit rich coming from Mr Dumps-Redbull-In-Coffee.” She gently nudged his ribs, and managed to coax a smile out of him. “Seriously, look after yourself, Em. And call me, okay?”_ _ _ _

____“I will. Thank you, Elle.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s what friends are for.” They hugged one last time before she patted his shoulders. “Now go. I’ll see you soon, okay? Good luck at home.”  
Elle watched as he straightened his spine and took a seat in the departure lounge, fiddling with his watch strap. He looked so small, curled up on the seat, his little scuffed trainers skimming the polished floor. Elle had to turn away, as she knew if she kept watching that she’d never want to leave him. _ _ _ _

____Instead she had returned to her car, and drove away, only wiping away her tears every few miles._ _ _ _

____*_ _ _ _

____Settling down on her bed, Elle sighed into the silence of her dorm room._ _ _ _

____Even in their most intense study sessions, Elle had gotten used to the little noises Emmett would make. His fingers clacking on his keyboard, and the little huffs and sighs he would give as he wrote. She found herself continually glancing up at her desk, expecting to see him perched there, squinting at his screen or making silly faces to get her laughing. His absence hurt._ _ _ _

____Bruiser seemed to have noticed the emptiness too, sniffing around the chair and whining quietly. When he padded over to Elle, his little face looked so sad that she couldn’t help but scoop him up and pop her next to him, no-dogs-on-furniture rules be damned._ _ _ _

____“He’ll be back soon, I promise.” She smiled, stroking the velvety fur of his ears. He nuzzled against her hip. But soon his nose started twitching, and he pawed at her pillow. She wriggled, feeling something digging into her back. After that failed to settle the discomfort, she frowned and reached behind her, pulling out something brown and wadded up tightly._ _ _ _

____Emmett’s jacket._ _ _ _

____As it unfolded before her, she sighed, and ran a hand down one of the lapels. It was basically a second skin to him, and she knew he’d be freezing without it. Her fingers paused at the buttons; they were loose, the stitching being worn down by his constant twitching and tugging. The sleeves too were beginning to fray, particularly at the elbows and cuffs.  
Nothing that couldn’t be repaired, especially by a particularly dedicated fashion major. _ _ _ _

____Half an hour later, she was still stitching – the more she held the jacket, the more little flaws she noticed. The buttons had been reattached, the pockets resealed and she’d taken to repatching the elbows, as well as neatening up the lining. Once she was finished, she held the jacket up to the light, and smiled. Not quite as good as new, but certainly less scruffy._ _ _ _

____As the jacket moved, its scent wafted over her. It wasn’t unpleasant; despite Emmett not being able to afford fancy cologne, his deodorant and washing powder left the garment smelling pleasantly fresh and clean. But as she held it closer to her face, deeper notes hit her. Cotton, obviously, but also coffee, and something bready that might have been bagels. Before she could help herself, she’d tugged it over her shoulders and hunkered down in its warmth, eyes stinging from holding back her tears._ _ _ _

____It wasn’t a particularly big jacket. True, it hung off her shoulders and over her hands, but she remembered being drenched in Warner’s enormous letterman jacket in college; she could wear that like a dress and had to roll the sleeves up four or five times just to see her fingers. But this jacket was much smaller, and remembering how baggy it was on Emmett, she wondered if she should worry. He wasn’t a particularly big guy, but she was fairly sure they shouldn’t have even remotely similar clothes sizes, considering his extra half-foot of height. No wonder he was so cold all the time, she realised with tears spilling down her cheeks, if this was all he had separating him from the cold Boston winter._ _ _ _

____Except he didn’t have it; she did. He was off, probably worrying himself sick on a flight to New York, and she was sat there, useless, huddled up in his forgotten jacket._ _ _ _

____He’d never felt so far away._ _ _ _

____Elle took a deep gulping breath, and moved to dry her eyes on the cuff, before pausing. No, that wouldn’t do, to dampen all her handiwork with tears. Instead, she glanced at the sewing box, another idea blossoming. With one hand, she scrabbled in her drawer for a box of tissues, while the other reached for her favourite pink thread._ _ _ _

____As dawn began to break, Elle fell fast asleep, still nuzzled up inside his jacket. Instead of tears, she was smiling into its sleeves, now adorned at the cuffs with a row of tiny embroidered hearts._ _ _ _


	2. How He Adores (And Hates)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m sorry.” Mendel knew it wouldn’t do much good; it wouldn’t stop Trina’s cheek from smarting, or stop Jason from being traumatised. It didn’t even ease the heavy ache in his chest. But it felt right to say it, to at least try and patch something together. Trina opened her mouth to reply when suddenly, she sat up, any trace of sleepiness fading from her eyes. She turned to stare at the door, and Mendel followed her gaze._
> 
>  
> 
> _In the silence, he could hear a key turning in the lock. ___

_MENDEL ___

In Mendel’s line of work, feeling helpless wasn’t exactly an option. But with Trina curled up on his lap, trying to hold in her sobs, he didn’t really have any other choice.  
Gently, he brushed her hair away from her cheek. Despite the ice they’d applied, it was still red and swollen, and by the way her face twisted every so often, it must have still been sore. 

Mendel didn’t even see the blow land. At first, he’d felt guilty about that – he let a strange violent man strike his fiancée and had done nothing to protect her. But when he’d seen Jason’s pale confused face peeking out at his father, it was all he could do to hold the kid as he and his mother buckled in unison. 

The strange thing was – Trina cried silently, and yet her little whimpery breaths were still enough to drown out Marvin’s desperate rationalisations. Mendel didn’t know what his excuse was – judging by the way Marvin’s voice trailed away, he didn’t know either – but he also didn’t care. 

No. That was all she had said. No accusations, no screaming, barely even a whisper. But for what felt like the first time, she had refused him. 

There were no answers. 

She had folded in on herself and Mendel had just managed to catch her before she fell. He’d buried a hand deep into her hair, its buttery scent wafting over him. Had it only been that morning that they’d showered together, giggling like teenagers? Time stretched out like the screech of a scratched record. All he could do was hold her, and rock gently. He wanted to whisper all sorts of things into her ear, but the words wouldn’t come. He could feel the heat of her flushing cheeks against his own and dared not kiss them. 

Eventually, he felt a few solid pats on his shoulder as Trina had loosened her hold. He’d given her one last squeeze and watched as she nodded. His attention then returned to Jason, who was gawking at them. Usually his expression would be twisted in embarrassment or disgust, but he just stared, eventually collapsing against Mendel. Never had Mendel been more thankful for the slight pudge at his middle – God knows the boy needed something to cuddle against. When Jason had pulled away, Mendel had made sure to keep an anchoring arm around his shoulders. He had turned just in time to see Marvin unfold his hands from their prayer-like position under his chin as Trina uncurled herself from her hunched sobs. When she turned herself on Marvin, Mendel wasn’t sure what to expect but braced himself for the onslaught. 

And then, in her infinite mercy, Trina had comforted Marvin. 

She hadn’t forgiven him. What he had done was wicked and cruel: the stain of it seeping through the room. But she had seen the shame on his face – that same expression she had mentioned first seeing on their wedding day, and that had haunted every moment of their marriage and beyond – and she had refuted it. For all the hurt he had caused her, she had refused to be ashamed for loving him. 

The next twenty minutes had been a bit of a blur. Marvin and Trina had discussed their first marriage – in much more realistic terms than they ever had in therapy, Mendel noticed unconsciously. Trina had made her father’s contributions more aggressive than she’d mentioned before; a command rather than a gift. And Marvin, to his credit, had finally come clean about the horror he’d felt when he’d taken those vows, had described the stomach churning nausea that had wracked through him every day. It had been upsetting to hear for everyone, and Mendel had managed to escort her into the kitchen before she had completely crumbled. 

“You promised I wasn’t disgusting.” She had whispered into her hands as she wept, but when he’d tried to comfort her, she only cried harder. A discussion for another day, he noted. It was all too raw now. 

When Mendel had returned to the living room, Marvin and Jason were sat talking. Well, Marvin was talking – Jason looked frozen, his shoulders tight and face blank. Mendel had wanted to race forward and pull Jason away but he paused. Marvin had managed to coax a few shy smiles out of his son, and when they shook hands, the fear they had both been feeling had eased somewhat. Marvin hugged Jason in a way Mendel had only seen in movies – that mouth that had been so vicious pressing kisses to his son’s hair, those hands that had been so harsh wrapping softly around Jason’s back, his thumb rubbing against the boy’s neck. 

Marvin hugged like he wasn’t coming back. 

At some point Marvin had left – he didn’t even need escorting out like he had during previous fights. He just wandered out into the dark night in a way that would have terrified Mendel if he had any emotions left. Jason had watched him go long after he’d gone, shivering in the doorway until Mendel had cajoled him back inside. Instinctively, he had glanced towards the kitchen, where his mother was still sobbing. He took a few steps forward then hesitated, looking up at Mendel. 

“Hey, why don’t you go change into your pyjamas, and I’ll come upstairs with a cup of hot chocolate in a minute, okay buddy?” Mendel had mentally cursed himself – as if a cup of sugar could erase years worth of trauma written onto Jason’s face. 

“That won’t be necessary.” He’d mumbled, turning towards the stairs. “But… but look after Mom, okay?” 

“I will, bubba. I promise.” 

“I lov-“ Jason started, but cut himself off, and had raced upstairs before he could finish. Mendel had heard the door slam, and had pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing. God, what that poor kid must have been feeling. Mendel was barely holding it together and he’d had years of psychological training. 

Still, the empty hallway gave Mendel the opportunity to return to Trina, who was now slumped over the kitchen table, sobbing into the table cloth. As gently as he could, he eased her over to the couch, and there she had lain, her head resting in his lap. She stared into the fireplace, breath hitching whenever Mendel stopped stroking her hair. 

“Where’s Jason?” She whispered. It had been the only thing she’d said since Marvin had left, and she’d repeated it every ten minutes, eyes wide and darting about the room as she searched. Mendel stroked a hand down her back and tried to keep his voice from shaking. 

“Trina, he’s fine. I put him to bed, remember? He’s sleeping.” 

Trina nodded, a little choked noise rumbling in the back of her throat. Her grip tightened on his trouser leg, and Mendel started to rub circles on her shoulders. Eventually, she loosened. 

“I’m sorry.” Mendel knew it wouldn’t do much good; it wouldn’t stop Trina’s cheek from smarting, or stop Jason from being traumatised. It didn’t even ease the heavy ache in his chest. But it felt right to say it, to at least try and patch something together. Trina opened her mouth to reply when suddenly, she sat up, any trace of sleepiness fading from her eyes. She turned to stare at the door, and Mendel followed her gaze. 

In the silence, he could hear a key turning in the lock. 

“He’s come back.” Trina moaned, hiding in Mendel’s shirt. Mendel cupped a protective hand around her head, fumbling for the nearest object he could find. The door opened, and there Marvin stood, looking rumpled. Trina’s fingers tightened on Mendel’s cardigan, and that feeling alone was enough to have Mendel launching what turned out to be the TV remote at the intruder. 

“Ah – stop it!” The man shrieked, flinching away. Mendel paused, and frowned down at Trina, who looked equally shocked. That voice was too high to be Marvin, and it would take more than a single missed shot to have him baulking. But when the stranger stepped into the light, Mendel could see he was far younger than Marvin, smaller and skinnier too, and dressed in an ill-fitting hoodie and ragged jeans. His eyes were different too – but somehow still familiar. Mendel wasn’t quite sure how he recognised them, until he felt Trina shift in his lap, and saw them again in her face. 

“Emmett?” She stood, shaking, and Mendel worried she would fall. The stranger, however, wrapped her up in his arms and held tight as she sagged against him, threading her fingers into his curls. 

“Mom.” He mumbled against her shoulder, and Mendel could hear his voice shaking. They stood together for about a minute, before Trina pulled back, and cupped his face with her palm. 

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Boston.” 

“Jason called. Since he asked me to come, I came.” Emmett glanced up towards Jason’s bedroom. “What’s going on? He said there’d been some sort of fight.”

“Oh, it’s nothing for you to be worrying about.” Trina smiled so wide that her face looked as if it might split in half and tilted his chin back down. Emmett frowned, tracing his thumb over the bruise on her cheek and wincing when she hissed. His expression was cold when he turned to Mendel. 

“Did you do this?” He growled, stopping only when his mom’s hand rested lightly on his arm. 

“No, honey, it wasn’t him.” She paused, and screwed her eyes shut, both cheeks now equally red. “It was… it was your father. He was drunk, and angry and-“ 

“I’m going to kill him.” Emmett’s grip tightened on his mother’s shoulders, and Mendel saw his eyes glint. “How dare he – after all you’ve – and when he’d-“ 

“Emmett.” Trina pressed her forehead against his, and his grip loosened. “It’s okay. Really, I’m fine.” 

“No, it’s not. It’s not OK, and he can’t get away with this.” Emmett tried to snarl, but his anger was quickly fading into despair, voice cracking as he spoke. “Mom, he hit you.” 

“I know, I know.” She pulled back a little further. “But it won’t happen again.” 

“I know it won’t – I won’t let it.” Mendel could see his jaw tense, but then the boy paused, and took a deep steadying breath. His arms stroked down his mother’s biceps. “Are you alright? What do you need? Ice pack? Painkillers?” 

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Mendel’s been looking after me.” Trina stepped back, and laced her fingers in between Mendel’s. He could feel how sweaty her palm was, and gave it a comforting squeeze. Emmett blinked, as if seeing the man for the very first time. 

“You’re Mendel.” He breathed, and Mendel could see a different kind of concern dwelling in his eyes. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I just-“ 

“It’s okay; I understand.” Mendel reached out to pat his shoulder, but thought better of it. “I’ll give you two a minute alone. Trin, would you like me to run you a bath?” 

“That would be – be lovely, thank you.” Trina just about manged to summon a smile, genuine this time. Reluctantly, he let Trina’s hand, but not before lifting it to his lips and giving it a gentle kiss. He then turned and left the room, pausing only temporarily on the stairs to make sure there was no shouting. He could hear pacing and two measured but indistinct voices, but nothing more. Satisfied, Mendel turned and carried on up the stairs. 

Running the bath was easy enough – he’d made sure to keep the water comfortable but on the hot side, and had added a few soothing bathsalts and a powdery bathbomb he’d found at the bottom of the toiletry basket. The water turned a pleasing purple and he smiled at his handiwork. When the tub was filled, he turned off the taps and listened again. Still no yelling, and the footsteps had stopped. 

As Mendel returned to the corridor, he turned his head to glance at Jason’s bedroom. The door was covered in stickers – dinosaurs, spaceships, baseball players. His name was spelled out too, in chunky rainbow letters, though the O was starting to droop from how often Jason slammed his door. With practised ease, Mendel opened the door and peered inside. 

Jason’s room was mostly dim, but one corner was bathed in light from a little glowing chesspiece plugged into the wall. The nightlight had been a gift from Marvin after his son had stopped sleeping following the divorce. Mendel wondered if Marvin had felt guilty about that. 

The boy in question was curled up on his duvet, shivering slightly in the chill of the room. He hadn’t quite changed into his pyjamas, but at least he had eased off his shoes. He’d snuffled when Mendel had opened the door but didn’t seem to be waking any time soon, instead burying his face further into his pillow, clinging like a little monkey. In one hand, he still held his mobile phone – a battered broken thing that Mendel had bought him a few months ago, and that had tumbled down multiple staircases and was more likely to be out of Jason’s possession than in it, due to his forgetfulness. 

Creeping forward, Mendel managed to ease the phone out of Jason’s grip, but in his sleep, Jason had substituted the device for Mendel’s hand. Mendel sat in shock, rubbing his thumb over Jason’s knuckles. His hand was warm and soft and Mendel couldn’t bear the thought of letting it go. But he did so with a squeeze, and rearranged the covers so Jason was tucked up all cosy. Mendel had just leaned down to kiss Jason’s forehead when the boy started to mumble. 

“Mom?” 

“She’s safe, bubba, she’s just downstairs.” 

“Men?” Jason cracked open an eye but it quickly fell shut, seeing nothing. Mendel rubbed his temple with his thumb. 

“I’m right here.”

“’m sorry.” Jason moaned, nuzzling his pillow. Mendel frowned. 

“For what, honey?”

“Callin’ Em… he’s so busy.” Mendel sighed, and kissed his forehead again. For once, the boy didn’t squirm. 

“He’s here, Jason. You’ll see him tomorrow.” 

“H’s help.” Jason huffed out, voice getting fainter as he trailed off. 

“I’m sure he will help, sweetheart. Now go back to sleep.” This gained no response, and Mendel took his cue to leave. As he closed the door, Mendel blew one final kiss into the room, before gently padding down the stairs and back towards the living room. The door had been closed, so Mendel knocked gently, waiting for their response before answering. 

Trina’s face was sticky with tears again, and Emmett was greenish-grey and biting down on his bottom lip. He was holding his mom’s hands tightly, but when she let go to stand, he started twisting and pulling at his sleeve, eventually teasing out a thread and tugging on it. He didn’t meet Mendel’s eye. 

Forcing on a smile, Mendel instead turned to his fiancée, and slipped a gentle but steadying arm around her waist. It felt strange to almost be at eye level with her, but without her heels and with her shoulders slumped in defeat, they were nearly the same height. He cupped her cheek in his hand, and discreetly wiped away the last of her tears with the pad of his thumb. 

“I put the lavender in, just how you like it.” He whispered and nodded, giving a little shuddering breath, almost like a sob. “Would you like me to light you some candles?” 

“That would be lovely.” Trina repeated, but before Mendel could help from the room, she reached out and took Emmett’s hand. The boy – and really, he was a boy; he couldn’t have been older than 25 – looked up, eyes brimming with tears. 

“Everything will be alright.” Trina whispered, patting his cheek and turning away.  
The bath itself had been largely uneventful. Trina had gasped as she slipped into the perfumed water though out of relief or shock Mendel couldn’t tell. She didn’t seem to be in any pain, but he’d stayed with her regardless. As beautiful as she was, he didn’t ogle or make jokes, or even get in with her as was their habit. Instead, he stayed outside but helped from there, lathering shampoo into her hair. Before the water ran cold, he’d helped her out, wrapping a warmed fluffy towel around her as she’d fetched her comfiest pyjamas. Together, they had limped into their bedroom, before Mendel eased her onto the bed. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, picking her nails. Mendel took a seat beside her but said nothing. 

“Mendel?” She mumbled after a while, not averting her gaze. “Can you go and check on Emmett? He’ll be running himself ragged downstairs.” 

“He can look after himself, Trin.” Mendel replied but Trina shook his head and grabbed his hand. 

“Please, Mendel. I… I need some time alone.” 

“Oh. Oh, okay. Of course. I love you, Trina.” Mendel stammered, stroking a last hand through her hair. He tried to ignore the sound of her crying as he closed the door. 

When Mendel returned downstairs, there was no trace of Emmett in the living room, though it had been thoroughly tidied. The couch cushion had been plumped and rearranged, the books squared against their respective tables. When Mendel popped his head into the kitchen, he could see the floor had been mopped, the surfaces wiped and Emmett drying his hands. What had once been a mound of dirty dishes now stood in gleaming piles, which he started to tuck away in cupboards, all perfectly neat and straight. He’d just started to rearrange the spice rack when Mendel gave a little cough. 

“Mendel!” 

“Wow, you really are Trina’s boy, aren’t you?” Mendel half-joked, but looking closer, the resemblance became clear. Though Emmett had many of his father’s features – his nose, his mouth, the distinctive bags under his eyes – the shape of his face was closer to Trina’s and his soft brown eyes were definitely hers. When he started to blush, it spread through his face, highlighting the similarities. 

“Sorry – habit of mine. When I get tetchy, I need to-“ He gestured to the now orderly kitchen, and then looked down at his shoes. Mendel wasn’t sure he’d ever seen more battered sneakers; the laces were frayed and the colour faded from red to a reluctant pink. When he rocked back and forth, he could see little splits in the sole. 

“It’s okay. Your mom is the same. Can never find anything after she goes on a cleaning binge but the place looks much better.” Mendel tried to keep his tone light, but Emmett didn’t seem to be paying attention, glancing up at the ceiling. 

“Can you – please can you stay with her? Just… just in case.” Emmett was twisting his sleeve again, and Mendel watched his throat tighten as he swallowed, eyes fixed on the door. Mendel nodded solemnly and Emmett sighed, picking up his satchel. 

“Are you going somewhere?” The boy’s shoulders tensed, and he fiddled with his bag strap. 

“I think – I need to see… Marvin.” Emmett’s hands balled into fists, but he seemed as surprised by the action as Mendel. Unclenching his fingers, he took a deep steadying breath.  
“I’m not going to – I would never – I just need to know he’s alright.” 

“Are you sure?” Mendel asked gently. He’d seen enough fragile patients to advise against a stressful late-night visit. Well, another one. “You’ve had a long day, and I’m not sure he’ll be in the best state for visitors.” 

“He’s my dad.” Emmett’s voice cracked, and they both froze. Emmett was blinking very quickly, eyes shining. “I can’t just leave him.”

“Okay.” Mendel nodded; there would be no convincing him, and in his heart, Mendel wasn’t sure that would even help. Instead, he reached for a pad and pen, and started to write. “Here’s my cellphone number. If anything goes wrong – and I mean anything – call me and I’ll come pick you up.”

“You don’t have to –“ 

“Emmett. You’re Trina’s son. Of course, I’m going to look out for you.” 

“… thank you.” Emmett took the paper and glanced at it, before folding it tight and tucking it into his pocket. As he turned to leave, Mendel couldn’t help but call out to him again. 

“Emmett?” The boy turned, and Mendel could see how tired he looked. It was quite an eerie expression, a perfect imitation of Marvin’s morbid exhaustion and Trina’s tearful hopelessness. Mendel reached out to hold him, but thought better of it. “They’re happy you’re here, you know. Your mom and brother. And I’m happy too. Just… take care of yourself, okay?” 

“I will.” Emmett nodded, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Thank you, Mendel. I wish we’d met in better circumstances.” 

Through the kitchen window, Mendel watched Emmett walk away, his strides oddly confident in contrast to the sagging of his narrow shoulders. He looked far too young to be out alone so late, but Mendel assumed he must have done it often, considering he lived in an entirely different state. And yet as he disappeared into the darkness that his father had done only hours before, Mendel couldn’t help but worry. For Pete’s sake, the boy didn’t even have a coat and it was mid-February! 

His thoughts, however, were interrupted by a renewed pacing coming from their bedroom and he knew his place was with Trina. But as he ascended the stairs once more, he prayed Emmett would heed his advice, and perhaps even find whatever he was looking for in his father’s company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> So this fic took off a little bit which is brilliant! I have an actual arc planned out for where I want this fic to go, and then am thinking of starting another separate fic in the same universe for when Whizzer comes back and the implications of that. If that's something you'd like to see, or if you have any other suggestions, please let me know either here or at my tumblr sanfordsmostwanted. 
> 
> In terms of updates, I'm not sure what schedule I'm on as I also desperately want to finish my Legally Blonde multichapter Whipped Into Shape (yes I am still writing it!) I'll do my best to keep going with this and update as regularly as I can! 
> 
> Best wishes, and hope you all have a lovely day/night! 
> 
> P.S stay tuned for Chapter 3 - all I'll say is it will be titled "All The Ways A Man Can Fail" so get those tissues ready!


	3. All The Ways A Man Can Fail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Emmett almost gagged upon entering the apartment. Although there was no noticeable lighting, the smell was enough to indicate that something had gone terribly wrong. The stodgy hoppy scent of spilled beer mixed with what he could only assume was vomit, all accompanied with the stench of sweat and cigarette smoke. Emmett took the deepest breath he could without retching and stepped further in." 
> 
> In which Emmett reunites with Marvin, and sees the extent to which his father is breaking down.

EMMETT 

Emmett almost gagged upon entering the apartment. Although there was no noticeable lighting, the smell was enough to indicate that something had gone terribly wrong. The stodgy hoppy scent of spilled beer mixed with what he could only assume was vomit, all accompanied with the stench of sweat and cigarette smoke. Emmett took the deepest breath he could without retching and stepped further in. 

Immediately his shoe glanced off a can and he staggered, slipping further on a mislaid paper. His father had always been messy, but this was a whole new level. The floor was covered with litter, and as Emmett turned on the light, he caught the sparkle of smashed glass just in time, having nearly trodden on a shattered bourbon glass. More startling though was the heavy groan coming from the couch. 

Emmett froze. He couldn’t – he couldn’t. Not just yet. A distraction. Anything. 

He walked on unsteady legs towards the kitchen, fumbling around for a glass. The shift in location hadn’t improved anything though, and in fact the smell was worse here. Emmett traced the stench to a carton of spoilt milk and tipped the contents away, cupping a hand over his mouth as it slugged into the sink. After a quick rinse and a few desperate squirts of dish soap, Emmett’s stomach started to rebel and he froze, trying to keep his breathing even. As he tried to distract himself, he took in the rest of the sorry room, from the mouldering bread on the counter, to what looked like tea leaves scattered all over the floor. At least he hoped they were tea leaves. If they were ants, he wasn’t sure he could keep himself from screeching. 

Another pained moan erupted from the couch, and Emmett quickly filled the glass with water, slopping some over his hand. The medicine cabinet, he discovered, was the only area that was well-stocked, overflowing with pillboxes. Pawing through, he grabbed a packet of aspirin and trekked back towards the living room. 

Creeping closer, Emmett paused as he took in the prone form of his father, cradling a whisky bottle and shielding his eyes from the light. He looked disgusting, hair greasy and stubble unkempt. His clothes were ragged and stained, with dark patches under his arms from sweat. Though his father had never been a smoker, his fingers were yellowed from nicotine. 

Emmett had to turn away. He had to, otherwise he was going to scream or cry, or be sick, and that wouldn’t help anyone.

“Whiz?” Marvin whispered, squinting up at him. Emmett shook his head, and cleared his throat. 

“No.” 

“Oh. It’s you.” Marvin tried to force himself up, and fell back, smacking his head. His scowl only worsened as he settled his gaze on Emmett. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Boston?” 

“No shit.” Emmett snapped, averting his eyes as his father eased himself upright. Instead he pressed the glass into Marvin’s limp hands. “Here, drink this.”

“What is it?” He asked dully, sniffing the liquid. 

“Fruit punch – what do you think it is?” Emmett folded his arms, and tried to ignore the hammering of his heartbeat, popping two aspirin into his hand. When his father had taken a few sips, he offered the tablets. “Take these. They’ll help with the headache.” 

“I don’t-“ Emmett couldn’t quite hold in a growl, and Marvin fell silent, knocking back the tablets. He paused, starting to heave. Emmett wondered if he should double back and grab a bucket, but his father just swallowed and shuddered. After a few deep breaths, Emmett saw Marvin’s face shift, and he buried his head in his hands. Tentatively, Emmett reached out and rubbed a hand over his shoulders. 

“Where’s-where’s Whizzer?” He asked, trying to detect any evidence of the other man in the room. The only response was his father’s shoulders tensing. Emmett stopped rubbing. 

“How should I know?” He snapped, scrabbling for the bottle and taking a long drag as Emmett winced. He knew his father drank heavily after a conflict, but he’d not seen it with his own eyes in many years, and never this starkly. A trickle of whiskey dripped down his mouth and onto his pants. “Probably fucking his way around New York by now.” 

“When will he be back?” Marvin didn’t respond, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and hiccupping. At least, it sounded like a hiccup. It could have been a sob. “Dad?” 

“He isn’t – he isn’t coming back.” 

“What?” 

“I said he’s not coming back.” Marvin snarled, and pressed himself further into the couch cushions. Emmett’s hand hovered in the air for a moment before dropping. It was all he could do to blink and keep listening. “We were fighting – again – and things got out of hand, and –“ Emmett felt his blood run cold as he thought of Whizzer, cowering like his mother had. “And I chucked him out. Grabbed his suitcase and told him to go.” 

“Why?”

“He cheated.” Emmett frowned; his father had always bitched about Whizzer being loose (not that he had any right to criticise, considering) so the excuse seemed unusual. Marvin let out a little bitter laugh. “At chess. He cheated when we were playing chess and he was just so damn smug and-“ 

“Oh my God, you’re serious.” Emmett couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. His father’s face was red and screwed up as he ranted, only silencing as Emmett spoke. “You threw him out for that?” 

“Don’t-“ Marvin wrinkled his nose, his tone whining as he went to lift the bottle again. Suddenly the cold that had been icing through Emmett’s veins turned white hot, and he felt his cheeks burn as he slapped the bottle out of his father’s hands, sending it sloshing onto the floor. 

“No, you don’t get to tell me to stop!” He stood without noticing it, the pulse of his heart overshadowing any of his father’s pathetic murmuring. “What is wrong with you? You threw out Whizzer, you traumatised Jason when YOU HIT MOM!” Emmett spun on his heel, but felt any further energy fade from him as he remembered his mother’s swollen cheek. His father was watching him with wide terrified eyes. Emmett hugged himself. “You hit Mom. Why? Why would you do that?” 

“I don’t know.” Marvin looking down at the floor and Emmett scoffed, clenching tighter. Just like his father to play the victim at a time like this. But before he could retort, Marvin glanced up, eyes shining with tears. “I lost control and I don’t know why.” 

Emmett froze, breath caught in his throat. Now that he looked closer, he could see his dad was trembling, rubbing at his face as if hoping to scratch the skin off. He hadn’t been taking care of himself, not just for the last few days, but for what looked like a long time. Though he’d not been exactly slim in Emmett’s childhood, he’d gained weight and his face was puffy. Behind his drunken flush, he was pale, and the eyebags they shared were dark and heavy.

“Is this the first time?” Emmett whispered, not quite meeting his father’s eye. Never in his life had he so hated his own curiosity – he doubted that there was any answer Marvin could give that would make the situation any better. “Have you hit Whizzer before?” 

“No! I would never-“ Marvin bristled initially but stopped and sighed, shrinking back into himself. He looked so much older, hunched over like that with his face lined and lips pursed. “But… but I’ve thought about it. I think such terrible things sometimes. I try to push them down but they-”

“What do you think about?” 

“I think about you.” Marvin was staring forward now, but it was like he was looking past Emmett, to something far beyond the dank little apartment, and his worried son. “I think about you, and Jason and your mother. But you’re not you – you’re all twisted and cruel and laughing. You all laugh at me so much. Mendel’s there a lot too, and Whizzer… oh Whizzer…” Marvin fisted his hands into his hair, pulling hard. “It’s so loud, all the laughing. It’s so loud and it’s all around me and everything gets too fast. I have to break out of it somehow. Sometimes I laugh back, louder in the hopes of drowning it out. Sometimes I think about… about drowning myself – you can’t hear underwater, you know? You can’t hear and you can’t breathe and you can’t worry-“ He paused, burying his face into his hands. “And sometimes I hit things, to make a louder noise than what’s in here.” He drummed his palm against his temple and winced. “Walls are good, plates and dishes are better and…” Marvin’s face screwed up and he shook his head, curling up tighter onto himself. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to hit anyone ever again. But I don’t know how else to make it stop.” 

“You need help.” Emmett half-sobbed out, making his father meet his eye for the first time. “Proper, professional help. I’ll help you get it but… but it’s more than I can give you.” There was a beat of silence, as Emmett wiped at his cheeks; he hadn’t quite started to cry but his face burned with embarrassment and his fingertips were slick with sweat. “You need to see someone, Dad. I don’t know if that’s rehab, or therapy, or both, but you need it.” 

“I need sleep.” Marvin groaned, his eyes unfocusing as he stretched out on the sofa. Emmett sighed, and rubbed his face. “And so do you. Jesus, what time is it? Your mom will be worried sick.” 

“Don’t worry, she knows I’m-“ 

“Go home, kid.” Marvin’s tone was firmer than it had been all night, and Emmett wasn’t sure if he was angry. “We can talk about this tomorrow, when we’re both a little less…” Marvin managed to hide a flinch as Emmett stepped closer. “You’ve done enough tonight.” 

“I-“ Emmett froze, his hand halfway stretched towards his father before pulling away again. His eyes itched with tiredness. “I’ll stop by in the morning, okay? We’ll talk then.” 

“Sure.” Marvin shrugged, and rolled over, nuzzling the sofa cushions. Emmett turned to leave when a few more of his father’s words drifted out. His voice was undeniably shaking now. “Would it be better if I was never here?” The words shuddered in the silence. “I think about that sometimes too. If I lie still enough, I can pretend that my arms have disappeared, that my legs have disappeared. I’ve got no shoulders, no hands, no-“ He paused, holding his breath for a few seconds. His voice sighed out, almost reverent. “No-one can touch me when I’m like that. Not Trina. Not Whizzer. Just me, and Marvin.” 

“Please don’t go.” Emmett mumbled, surprising himself. “We want you here – we need you here. Jason needs a father, I need-“ The words stuck in Emmett’s throat and he looked up at the damp-ridden ceiling, blinking hard. “Please don’t leave us again.” 

“You have Mendel now.” 

“Mendel can’t play chess.” 

“Okay. I’ll stay.” Marvin’s voice was laced with what could have been laughter, as he yawned wide enough to crack his jaw. He turned again, facing Emmett. “You’re a good kid, you know that? Your mom and I were always surprised by that. But you always have been.” Marvin’s arm stretched out, and for a second, Emmett wondered if his father wanted to hold him, but he seemed to be fiddling with something on the coffee table. “You’re such a good kid, Aviva… such a good girl...” 

Of all the things he had heard that day, Emmett was surprised that the relative commonplace of his father deadnaming him had any effect at all, but it did, immediately sending his pulse into overdrive. For a moment, he considered reaching out and shaking his father back awake to scream at him, but he forced himself to stay still until the burning in his chest subsided. Once he was certain his father had fallen asleep, Emmett stood, knees creaking and slipped into the bathroom. His hands trembled as he locked the door behind him, and he pressed his back against the cool wood of the door. He’d intended to wash his face in the basin but even the act of standing was too much and instead he slid to the floor, jamming his fist into his mouth to stop himself from screaming out in sorrow. Every time he thought of that rotten name, stinking up his father’s breath worse than the alcohol, he bit down harder, eventually breaking the skin. Emmett retched at the sudden spurt of blood into his mouth and gagged into the nearby toilet bowl. His empty stomach lurched, with no results, and eventually he pulled himself backwards, cold sweat dripping down his face. 

He never should have left. How could he have been so selfish, to run away to Boston when his family had imploded in his absence? He’d left Jason in this mess, to grow up with his parents as bitter and fragile as they’d become. When had this all started?

Well, not started; Emmett knew that much himself. Sure his parents had bickered, but they’d never screamed until he’d started asking questions. About himself, about being a boy, about getting into college. And about them too – why Mommy stared at the kitchen wall sometimes, and why her tummy was getting all round and why she’d started smelling of smoke so much. Why Daddy was always so tired, and why he hit things, and what the funny marks on his neck were. 

If he’d never asked, maybe they’d never would have stopped to think about it. 

Shivering, Emmett fixed his eyes on the scratched face of his watch, allowing himself to whimper for another long minute before swallowing hard and holding himself still until the shudders left him. After a few shaky breaths, he stood and returned to the living room, holding himself tightly. With the last of his strength, Marvin had reached for a photo sat on the coffee table and tilted it towards him. Emmett nudged it closer, but Marvin had fallen fast asleep. 

Picking up the frame, Emmett frowned. The picture was of Whizzer, looking uncharacteristically goofy; his smile was wide as he opened some present and peered inside with bright eyes. His father was out of shot, but Emmett could see Marvin’s arm hooked around Whizzer’s naked waist. The sight made his stomach tighten – had they huddled together like that when his mother had found them in their home? But Emmett paused, and forced himself to unclench. 

His father loved Whizzer. His father had loved Whizzer for years, and had given up everything to be with him. And this empty place wasn’t a home without him in it.  
Emmett knew what he had to do. 

Easing the photo out of its frame and slipping it into his pocket, Emmett straightened, and glanced once more at his father. The cold winter chill had brought out goosebumps in his arms, and Emmett sighed, slipping off his hoodie and tucking it around his father. 

“I want that back.” He whispered to no response. Running his hands through his hair, Emmett tried to suppress the twitchiness in his fingers, but started to straighten the armchair cushions, and the coffee table paraphernalia. There was enough dirty dishes to fill a washing up bowl but to do that he needed to sweep and bleach and - 

Three hours later and stinking of furniture spray and window cleaner, Emmett stumbled out of his father’s flat, a little soothed from the cleaning, but his heart hanging heavier than ever before. 

*

MARVIN 

When Marvin awoke, his apartment was suspiciously clean. 

In truth, he didn’t remember much of the previous night. What memories he had were both fuzzy and sharp – lots of heat and shouting and pain. When he sat up, his head spun and his stomach felt like it was dropping over and over again. He scrabbled for his glasses and found them folded neatly, next to a full pint glass of water sat on a coaster. Next to that was a packet of aspirin, tilted suggestively towards him. Mouth dry, Marvin chugged down the water, only remembering halfway through to take the pills. His stomach sloshed, and he had to pause. God, he felt awful. 

With much groaning, Marvin eventually stood up, ignoring the hoodie that tumbled to the floor; he’d pick it up eventually. But he felt guilty as he saw it strafed across what looked like the newly swept floor. This was more than just tidying; the whole apartment had been rearranged. Even the bookshelf had been reorganised, books now sorted alphabetically by author, with little sub-sections for different subjects. Whizzer had always sorted the books by colour and height, which Marvin despised; it was irritating to reach for a novel, only to find a yoga manual in his hands instead. He remembered he’d once gotten so angry that he’d tipped the entire bookshelf over, sending paperbacks skidding all over the floor. Whizzer had thrown a dictionary at him that night; there was still a dent in the wall from where it hit when he dodged. 

Wait – where was Whizzer? The house was suspiciously quiet, and when Marvin glanced at the mantlepiece he saw Whizzer’s keys missing from the tacky decorative bowl he’d so adored. More concerningly, all of Whizzer’s knick-knacks had vanished too – his signed baseball, his little vase of pressed violets, his camera. Things too insignificant to be thieved, but important enough to make Marvin’s heart start pounding. 

Taking as deep and steadying a breath as he could, Marvin looked down at his hands. He’d always found that a particularly useful way to keep control of himself – no matter where he was, he could glance down at his hands. Usually he’d immerse himself in counting the wrinkles at the bends of his fingers, or picking at his nails until they split, but any thought of that fled as he noticed the caked blood at his knuckles. Already some of the skin was bruised black and it ached when he flexed his fingers. 

He’d hit something – a wall or door or something unrelenting that had ripped his hands to pieces. Yes, he remembered that – his fist had collided with light caramel walls. But the walls in his and Whizzer’s apartment were off-white; their landlord hadn’t allowed them to get any more festive than that. So he hadn’t been home. Where then? 

Marvin paused, as he remembered how Trina’s blouse had matched the colour of the wallpaper when she and Mendel had redesigned the sitting room. 

Trina. 

He’d hit Trina.

Marvin’s stomach lurched, and he just about made it to the kitchen sink in time to cough up hot strings of bile. The stink of bleach was strong and made him gag harder, but there wasn’t much more for his stomach to expel and eventually it calmed. 

After rinsing his hands and mouth, he glanced around the kitchen, which was equally neat. Even the silverware had been sorted into meat and dairy cutlery; something he hadn’t bothered to do in years. There was no way in hell it was Whizzer then. 

And how could it be, Marvin realised, as he turned to face the dining table where he and Whizzer had sat only hours before. Whizzer had been lounging on the couch when Marvin had come home from work, sweaty and tense from the subway. He’d sat up attentively enough, but before long they’d been bickering, soothed only temporarily by a game of chess.

In truth Marvin hadn’t been up for the match – his head was throbbing and receiving Trina’s wedding invitation that morning had made him ache in ways he couldn’t articulate. Whizzer too had been edgy, twitching and rubbing his hands up and down those delicious thighs. His shirt had been too tight – how was Marvin supposed to think with all that straining satin, that gorgeous tan skin, the glint of light in Whizzer’s perfect hair? 

It was better then to needle at Whizzer. It was almost fun to watch his mouth twitch and hear his little growls. He swatted at Marvin like a lion at flies, and Marvin had relished every second of it. 

And then he’d lost, pretty spectacularly too. Whizzer had gloated, Marvin had sulked, and soon enough pieces were flying. At first it was just about chess – Marvin whinging about proper etiquette and piece movement like it was some personal affront to his honour to move a rook diagonally. But then things shifted. Other bubbles of resentment in their relationship rose to the top – Whizzer’s promiscuity, Marvin’s selfishness, Whizzer’s laziness, Marvin’s temper, and so on and so on like bathwater spiralling around a drain. They’d repeated the same argument so many times that Marvin barely heard it, rolling his hand and eyes as the barrage of criticism washed over him. The beautiful face he’d dreamt about kissing twisted into a horrible snarl. It was too easy to mock, to sneer back and scowl. 

Marvin had just wanted to win so badly – had needed to win – that when Whizzer said he only stuck around for the sex and money, Marvin had slammed down the suitcase instead of slamming his fist into Whizzer’s face. 

Glancing at the chessboard, Marvin’s stomach twisted as he realised the game had been reset. That last memory of Whizzer, however horrid, had been erased. The pawns stared back at him, unimpressed. One stood defiantly in the middle – pawn to E4. It was certainly a more aggressive move than anything Whizzer or even Jason would play, but for once, Marvin didn’t give a shit about the little ivory pieces. Instead, he was focused on the gauche yellow post-it note trapped underneath. Written on it was a single sentence, in small scratchy handwriting that Marvin hadn’t seen in years, but could never forget. 

‘Your move – E.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the wait between chapters on this - I wanted to finish up my previous WIP before throwing myself deeply into this one, and I've been working a lot at my job too. Also this chapter ended up a lot darker than I expected, and I needed to give myself a few breaks along the way. I hope it wasn't too heavy - I promise it'll get lighter from here on in. I also tried to stay consistent with the darkest parts of Falsettos and In Trousers; eagle eyed readers might notice some attempts to refer to Marvin's Giddy Seizures, but I'm not sure how effective that was. 
> 
> As for the next chapter - I won't make any promises as to when it will be out but I am working on it as we speak. I'm not sure where I'll be going next - who would you like me to introduce next? I'm thinking either a bit more Mendel and Emmett bonding, or introducing Jason or Whizzer - I have plans for all three, but I'm not sure of the order. Comment below with any ideas you might have! I'm always interested in discussing this AU. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and make sure to take care of yourselves!


	4. Chapter 4

Hey everyone - just letting you know that this work is on temporary hiatus for the moment. I've got some family issues of my own to work on, and I'm in my final term at university, so I have a lot of schoolwork to be working on too. But it isn't entirely abandoned; I just need some more time. 

Best wishes, and thanks for sticking with it! 

Holly

**Author's Note:**

> Hey - hope you enjoyed the fic: this has been a huge passion project of mine over the last couple of weeks, and a big labour of love. 
> 
> Enormous shout out to the amazing people who have helped this AU come together: the lovely Liv who has been there from the start, the wonderful Joanie who just knows exactly what to say, and the awesome Wendel who has put up with far, far too many messages from me about this. 
> 
> I'd really like to keep writing in this universe - I have a lot of ideas, especially about Emmett's relationship with Mendel, Whizzer and the Lesbians From Next Door, so if you'd like to see more, pop into the comments and give me your thoughts! 
> 
> Have an awesome day/night and look after yourselves!


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